


Thin Ice

by guineapiggie



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Hoth, I don't think I have ever used this tag before, Rebelcaptain Secret Santa, duh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: The pilot throws him a flickering but bright smile and steps a little closer. “We – we didn’t know if you…”Cassian shrugs faintly. “I’m here,” he mutters, becauseI’m finewouldn’t be entirely truthful. “It’s good to see you.”"You too." Cassian waits for a moment, but the pilot says no more and… damn it, he’s too tired to play it cool. He’s also just generally very cold.A bunk would come in handy. Preferably a warm one. Preferably –Oh, he’s been alone too long.





	Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [motherofangst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofangst/gifts).



> for the lovely [motherofangst](http://motherofangst.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, based on the prompt _~~Endor or~~ Hoth reunion, or simply bed sharing on Hoth to keep warm_ \- thank God you said smut is not a requirement because there isn't even a hint of it in this ^^  
>  ~~as always I can't say I am 100% percent happy with it but, well, am I ever?!~~  
>  I really hope you'll like it, though!

Cassian sighs and zips up his threadbare old parka. If what little remained of his briefing on the new base, scrambled to bits by the poor signal, is at all accurate, the old thing might not do to keep out the cold – but then again, he doubts the Alliance has anything warmer to spare.

 _Just like home,_ he thinks bitterly and fiddles with the dials of the stolen little ship. He really has no intention of crashing, not _now,_ not when he’s finally, _finally –_

 _Don’t do this to yourself, Andor,_ he tells himself firmly and shakes his head. He doesn’t even know if any of them are planetside. Or, in fact, even alive.

The thought stings. Maybe he shouldn’t let it. He probably shouldn’t let it.

But sting it does, right behind his sternum – a faint ache has settled in that spot since Scarif, since Yavin, like a heartburn; and whenever he is too tired to silence the nagging thought, it flares up white hot.

He manages to bring the ship to a halt, not in a way that would make Bodhi proud but in one piece, and is hit by dry, freezing air as soon as the ramp opens an inch wide.

He got too used to luxuries, he thinks, even if it’s just the climate.

He cranes his neck, scanning the hangar without meaning to, and it’s not his superiors he’s looking for… so it looks like warm air in his lungs is not the only luxury he’s got too used to.

His eyes find a familiar figure before he can pursue the thought any further – that is probably lucky – and he feels an involuntary little smile tug at his lips.

He’s being a terrible spy lately, and he has no idea how he isn’t dead yet.

“Bodhi.”

The pilot throws him a flickering but bright smile and steps a little closer. “We – we didn’t know if you…”

Cassian shrugs faintly. “I’m here,” he mutters, because _I’m fine_ wouldn’t be entirely truthful. “It’s good to see you.”

Again, a flicker of a smile. The pilot is hard to read, still – he’s so fidgety, and there’s always something anxious sitting in his big dark eyes. Cassian hardly ever knows if Bodhi is worried about something or if he’s just… well, the same.

“You too.”

Cassian waits for a moment, but the pilot says no more and… damn it, he’s too tired to play it cool. He’s also just generally very cold.

A bunk would come in handy. Preferably a warm one. _Preferably_ –

Oh, he’s been alone too long.

“What about the others?” he asks, having some trouble getting the words out around the burning flaring up in his chest.

Bodhi fidgets. The stinging gets worse.

“Chirrut and Baze are already off planet again,” he says softly, tugging at his scarf. “Um, Kay is around. Somewhere.”

He’s saving Jyn for last. That’s not a good sign. That’s not –

“Uh, you, um… you have quarters assigned to you, but well…”

“ _Bodhi_ –“

“We put Jyn there,” Bodhi says hastily. “Just – the medbay is overflowing and she bunks with five others and we didn’t know you’d be back today and Kay agreed so he opened the door for us and –“

Medbay. They put Jyn in his quarters _._ Kay agreed that was necessary. Jyn let herself be _put_ someplace. _Medbay._  
He nods, the place behind his sternum burning and stinging, fingers numb. “Where?”

“What?”

“My quarters,” he says, voice flat, “where?”

“Uh.” Bodhi looks slightly overwhelmed, but nods towards one of the tunnels leading out of the hangar. “Down there, two… two lefts and a right. I think. Third – yeah, third door –“

“Okay,” Cassian mutters, pushing past him. “Thank you.”

The base is still very much in construction, the hallways just tunnels roughly hewn into the ice, and more than once, he almost slips and slams into a wall. Chips of ice rain down into his hair from the ceiling and the cold is already seeping into his bones - though perhaps, that is not really the cold.

He punches in the code, and just while the door whirrs open noisily his mind conjures up at least a dozen horrible things he could find inside.

The lights power up and from the small heap of sheets and blankets on the bunk comes a faint, displeased whimper.

His throat is paper dry.

“Jyn?” he whispers, slowly stepping closer.

The heap shifts, slightly, then shivers.

“Jyn?”

He catches a glimpse of dark hair and pulls back the blankets she’s buried underneath. She whimpers again, clutching at the hem to stop him, then her eyes slowly move up to his face and she stills.

“Cassian?” she mumbles and he tries for a smile that probably turns out terribly.

“Hi.” He rests a hand on her forehead, and sure enough, her skin is burning hot to the touch.

“You’re _late_ ,” she says softly, glaring up at him, and his throat tightens at the sight. He sits down at the edge of the mattress and runs a hand through her hair, slightly greasy and damp with sweat.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he mutters, fingers tightening, and can’t resist edging closer to press a small kiss to her chapped lips. “What happened to you?” he adds softly, brushing a stray strand out of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Not hurt,” she replies faintly, throwing him what is probably supposed to be an exasperated, reassuring smile, but it turns out weak and just makes him more worried. “Just wanted somewhere quiet to sleep.”

“Have you been to medbay?”

“’s just a cold,” she murmurs indignantly, eyes dropping shut. “’m fine. You look tired. Come sleep.”

He sighs. A part of him wants nothing but that, but that fever seems far too high for him to be able to relax.

“Jyn. Did you get meds for the fever?”

“ _Cassian,_ ” she drawls, drawing out his name, tugging the covers from his grasp. “I don’t need meds, I just got _cold._ It’s _cold_ here, did you notice?”

He sighs again. “Jyn. Answer me. Have you been to medbay? Did they give you something?” he repeats intently, and she groans.

“ _Yes,_ Bodhi made me, just after they pulled me out, they gave me a shot and told me to rest until it’s passed so let me _sleep –_ “

Good, if the droids cleared her then she’ll probably be fine, so –

He frowns. “After they pulled you _out_? Out of where?”

She groans faintly, throwing him a dark look, then gives a pitiful little cough and motions towards a thermos on a nearby shelf. “Can you –“

He grabs the water and gently shoves a hand between the mattress and her shoulder blade, the other resting at the back of her head, and carefully helps her sit up before handing her the thermos.

“Slowly,” he mutters, and she freezes to throw him a look out of slightly clearer eyes.

“Yes, _mum_.”

He throws her a rueful smile, then gets to his feet to inspect the locker, distantly hoping for clean clothes.

“I took the shirt,” she says in a faintly guilty tone, once more curled up into a tiny ball underneath the heaps of blankets. “Warmer than mine. Was gonna get you a new one.”

Pity. “It’s fine.” He throws a look into the tiny adjoining room, delighted to find a ‘fresher running on actual water – then again, given they’re buried underneath twenty feet of snow, he doesn’t suppose water is something they’ll run out of on this base. That makes for a nice change.

He rinses the dust of the desert that he left this morning out of his hair and rubs it dry carefully – he has a feeling it might freeze within five minutes if he doesn’t. The stab wound on his arm is leaking slightly through the old bacta patch. He ought to get a new one, but he decides he’s too tired for an hour-long wait in a crowded medbay, and it’s a smallish cut, he won’t bleed out overnight. There’ll be time in the morning.

He shakes what dust he can off his clothes before putting them back on, and returns to his spot on the edge of the bunk. Jyn looks like she’s trying very hard not to fall asleep.

“More water?” he asks softly, and when she shakes her head adds, even quieter: “Come on. Please.”

She sighs and pushes herself up onto her elbow, swatting at his helping hand. “Fine. I’m _fine,_ Cassian.”

Her speech is still lagging, though, and he shakes his head at her. “Drink up.”

She hands him the empty bottle and drops back into the pillow. “Happy now, captain?”

“Very,” he mutters and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get more water. Do you need anything else?”

“Force, Cassian, just… rest a bit,” she mutters into the pillow, turning over to burrow herself deeper into the blankets. “I’ll live.”

He manages a fleeting smile, but gets up to fill the bottle anyway, and grabs a nutrition bar as well when he realises getting up too quickly is making his head swim. Come to think of it now, he hasn’t eaten in a day and a half, which is idiotic, but it slipped his mind. He’d just wanted to get back.

He offers her half of the bar, but she shakes her head, looking distinctly sick at the mere suggestion.

“Okay, tell me what happened?” he asks softly, tugging off his boots and after brief consideration pulling off his grimy shirt as well before wrapping himself back into the parka. Then he carefully climbs over her and settles down next to her, doing his best to fit himself onto the narrow bunk without touching the cold wall.

“We were scouting out the cave system further down,” she mutters and lifts the blankets so he can share the warmth. “Solo’s torch gave out, so I walked in front. Turns out there’s a hot spring or something, underneath one of the caves,” she continues in a very hoarse voice and burrows closer. “The floor was like three inches of ice. I got maybe eight steps in before I broke through.”

“Solo was leading the team?” he inquires calmly, and she snorts.

“If I outranked Solo, they’d have given me my own fancy quarters, _captain_.”

“He let his team walk into unsafe territory before him?” he recaps without inflection and she sighs.

“Cassian.”

“How did that… _incompetent_ –“

“Cassian, _stop,_ ” she repeats, a little louder. “Solo and Dameron got me out, okay? I would have probably drowned without them.”

“No,” he answers darkly, “without Solo you wouldn’t have been the one to fall in in the first place. This is _his_ fault.”

She groans and turns around to face him, eyes closed. “’s no one’s fault.”

He doesn’t reply, and she sighs and slowly blinks her eyes open. They still look far too hazy for his liking, but she manages to throw him a stern look, which is reassuring.

“’m fine, Cassian,” she adds firmly, but her voice breaks halfway through and he shakes his head.

“Clearly,” he mutters, pulling her closer. Jyn gives a pleased little hum and moves up to get level with him, then freezes.

“I’m gonna get you sick. Get away from me,” she mutters, limply pushing at his chest, and he smiles and catches her wrists.

“That’s alright,” he replies, and kisses her again just to prove his point. “I think I’ll sleep for an entire day either way, and I can always kill Solo later.”

A small grin flickers across her face. “One day, he’ll just be hit by some loose piece from his crap ship, you don’t have to do anything.” She sighs and runs her hands up to his neck. “You’re going to freeze without a shirt, laser brain.”

“I’m fine, I have my own little furnace right here,” he whispers and wraps her in his parka as well.

He runs a hand over her cheek. She looks exhausted, and he doubts it’s just the fever – her nails are chewed short and she’s slightly thinner than he remembers her being when he left, and the skin around her eyes is irritated and slightly red.

(He doubts he looks much better, but that’s beside the point.)

“Are you okay?”

She hums, her cold nose pressed against his neck. “Better now,” she mumbles and he buries his fingers deeper in her hair.

He hates this. He hates going weeks and months without seeing her, constantly trying to swallow down the nagging little voice in his head, whispering _what if something’s wrong, what if something happened, what if she’s dying right this minute and you don’t even know._

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he whispers. “I should’ve been here. Take care of you.”

He suspects the rebel who was _supposed_ to meet him two weeks ago to give him the location of the new base didn’t make it, and the one who came the previous day had only been sent when Draven noticed the first one wasn’t coming back, but that isn’t really something he chooses to linger on.

“’s not your fault,” she mutters. “Just… you know.”

She pushes a hand into his hair and smiles against his skin. “I had better plans for your return, you know.”

He did as well, but he gets the faint impression she feels like she let him down, and he can’t have that, so instead of playing along, he presses her hand and answers softly: “You’re still here. That’s all that matters.”

“Sap,” she gives back, though he can hear the smile in her voice. “Also that…,” she coughs into the pillow, then croaks: “That sounds like you didn’t miss me at all.”

That is so completely wrong it almost makes him laugh – it was _especially_ bad this time. Those two weeks waiting for directions were the worst, and he hardly slept at night.

But he doesn’t say that. It’s over for now, and it is what it is.

“Please hold that thought,” he mutters into her hair. “A couple more days, maybe. I can prove I did.”

“If Draven lets you stay that long,” she growls and he smiles grimly.

“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”

She laughs a little and presses a kiss to his throat. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

He buries his face in her hair and tucks the blanket over their heads. “Sleep a bit.”

She burrows closer, curling up against his chest, fingers twisting into the fabric of his old parka.

“’m glad you’re okay,” she whispers, words all jumbled together, and he smiles a little.

“I’m good,” he breathes. “You’re warm.”

“Hot.”

“What?”

“You got the expression wrong,” she mumbles, grinning faintly, and he chuckles.

“Yes. Sure,” he mutters. “Sleep well, Jyn.”

She hums softly, one hand letting go of his coat to settle just above his collarbone, pressed against his pulse, and is out like a light moments later.


End file.
